


Infirmary

by AnotherLoser



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Munchausen by proxy, Pre-Canon Divergence, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: I once based an rp off of a Nicole Dollanganger song, now I'm basing a story off of that rp too.In which Stiles was kidnapped the night his mother died and never seen again- until his new father has business in Beacon Hills.





	1. Chapter 1

The air conditioning was always too cold for him in public spaces. It was fine, of course, given how hot it could be outside and how much more comfortable Stiles was around strangers with his skin covered up. Especially in this case, where the strangers may not actually be strangers to him.

Beacon Hills was an old home, and it was no accident they were here. Stiles was young when he was taken in, but he was more than old enough to remember his roots, blurry as his past could be. Blame the medication. He was no older than ten, he thinks, when it happened. He remembers his father in a police uniform. He remembers his mother in a hospital gown. He remembers a nurse he saw just as frequently as his own parents, her son sitting with him for hours on end in waiting rooms, a red-headed girl on the playground sometime before–

He should remember more. Stiles wasn’t stupid; he knew something was wrong with so many questions. There wasn’t much he could do about it now though. The point was- no older than ten, he’d been taken from Beacon Hills, and for whatever reason the man he now called his father thought it was time to come back.

“We shouldn’t stay too long…” he’d said, uncertainty in his eyes, watching for the now seventeen year old’s reaction. Curious as he may be, Stiles didn’t really care one way or another. They were here now, settling into a hotel and while his father tended to whatever business he had back in town, Stiles was sent for groceries with a small list and some folded up dollar bills in his pocket.

They only needed basics for however long they were in town, and for them that boiled down to soups, pudding, and oatmeal. Hospital food at it’s finest but at least it was homemade. Regardless of how easy this run should be then, Stiles was taking his time wandering the isles just to stay out of the hotel for as long as possible. He was lost in his head, certainly, but he maintained a healthy amount of awareness for his surroundings. His dad said he had better instincts than most of the men he worked with, and while Stiles has never been able to meet them or see the work himself, he takes the compliment with pride.

It’s because of all of this that he knows he’s being watched before the other boy speaks up.  
“I know you.” He says, and the statement itself is the only reason Stiles feels caught off guard. “It’s me- it’s Scott!”  
While he knew there was some probability in being recognized, he truly didn’t believe it would happen on the very first day. This then begs the question, why did it? Looking at the other teen, he can’t quite place the face. His voice was obviously deeper than it would have been if they knew each other at ten, and brown eyes were in the majority all over the country. There just wasn’t enough for Stiles to piece this face together.

“Um… Sorry- I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

Scott’s brow furrows, now looking about as confused as Stiles felt. “You don’t remember me?” He asks slowly, unsure. “You’re Stiles. Stilinski. I know it’s been a while but-”

“Moreau.” They both blink; one confused and the other catching up to his own mouth. “It’s Moreau now. My last name.”

Another quiet beat.

“But it is you?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I just uhh… When did we know each other?”

“We grew up together, Stiles. Like our entire childhoods until…”

“Right. Sorry- again. My memory is pretty crap. But, hey, long time no see?” Was that the best he could do? He wanted to remember, he did. Those days never made sense after leaving. Even when they came back, Stiles only felt nostalgia rather than recognition for anything in particular. All he has now was the same feeling about Scott’s face.

Tan skin, brown eyes darker than Stiles’ own, dark hair to match, and this lopsided smile…  
Crooked, like his jaw was.

Like the boy’s in the hospital was. Because Scott was the boy that came with him to visit his mom, because Scott’s mom worked there and they could hit two birds with one stone and if Stiles couldn’t see his family yet then they would be supervised by Scott’s. They played soccer by themselves in the backyard with makeshift goals. Scott wanted to play lacrosse when they got to high school, but his mom was worried because of his asthma. She talked about it with Stiles’ parents too, just like they all talked about Stiles’ ADHD together.

“Stiles?” How long had he been staring while that all came back to him? He can imagine how that looks. He isn’t supposed to cause a scene- not anywhere, not of any kind, not ever. Stiles forces a slight smile onto his face.

“Sorry.” He’s saying that a lot today. “I thought I remembered something.” Scott opens his mouth to respond before he’s cut off, “Anyway uh, I should probably finish up here and get back to the hotel. Maybe I’ll see you around or whatever.”

With that he turns to leave, raising the shopping list in his hand to double check his findings before hurrying out. Scott on the other hand was confused and apparently quite surprised, saying a little too quickly and a little too loud, “wait, Stiles!” Regardless, he catches his mistake immediately. “Can we go somewhere to talk? You could come over for dinner, I’m sure my mom would love to see you too and-”

“I can’t be out after dark. But thanks.”

No hesitation, “Well it’s only noon anyway, so how about lunch?”


	2. Chapter 2

Scott’s best friend had vanished when they were ten. His mother died in the hospital that night. Scott’s had told him how it was just his friend in the room with her when it happened, how the two remaining Stilinski’s left together after the officer had come racing in. Then the next day no one could reach them. Every step of the way was still as vivid now as it was back then; one death, then another, and then the missing person posters for their child, but it had been a weak search. After all, Melissa was probably right when she kept telling him the likelihood of Stiles calling a family friend or distant relative, someone out of town. The problem was that Stiles was already gone by the time his dad’s body was found and the social worker never got to speak to him, let alone help him find a family member willing to take him in.

So at the end of the day, nothing added up, but there was nothing they could do. Time passed, everyone moved on. Stiles only had two friends at that time; a girl named Heather and Scott himself. His admiration for Lydia Martin didn’t encourage her to talk to him, Jackson Whittemore was starting to become more and more like a bully by then too. There weren’t enough people wondering about him to keep the memory alive outside of the McCall home. By the time he’s seventeen, things are different. The mysterious loss of his best friend bred a curiosity Scott hadn’t experienced before, one that never died no matter how poor his execution was.

He kept newspaper clippings of local crime, he lost more sleep to chasing sirens than proper studying. He did his best, but sometimes the call of the unknown was simply stronger than his conscience. At those times, it felt like he was arguing between himself and the memory of his friend. Stiles was always the one that wanted to see the crime scene photos and hear about the cases. Without him around, it felt like Scott had to fill in the blanks himself.

Of course it got him into trouble. Lead him towards deeper mysteries than he actually wanted to discover. Most of the time it was just missing a homework assignment because he was too busy running around to finish it on time. Other times it was finding a split body in the woods and being bitten by some kind of wild animal he’d only find the truth about later.

So things were different. More so than he thinks he could put into words, but he never forgot, and he just knew that the boy in the store was Stiles. They were both older of course. The other boy was so pale, his previously buzzed hair was grown out to a decent length, messy and greasy. His face was thin, eyes slightly sunken and though he was dressed in loose pants and a big shirt, there was no doubt his body was just as scrawny. Maybe it was because he was so thin that Scott could recognize him, looking like less of a man and more like a child still.

Standing in front of him doesn’t eliminate the mystery. Where had he gone? Why was he back? Was he sick? Was he homeless? Did he run? Was he taken? Why did he smell both like a hospital and stale cigarettes?

So he asks for a private conversation, hoping that his mom could be there and help him look for clues or shed some light beyond his own nervous scope. But nothing after dark- Stiles was a seventeen year old with a curfew fitting for a kid too. At least they were nowhere near dinner time in reality, so there were other options. Even then, Stiles only accepted the invitation with pursed lips and a small nod before darting away. Scott had to call after him to tell him where to meet, and then he could only hope that Stiles would follow through.

He’s still hoping an hour later at the nearest coffee shop to the grocery store. There were only two in the area before going downtown, but Scott chose this one because it was more likely Stiles could find it after all this time. If he had restrictions like being home by sundown there was no telling if he even had a cell phone, let alone one with a map. Considering he didn’t remember Scott’s face, there was a good chance he didn’t remember his way around town either.

These mental notes only create more confusion in the wolf’s head. Make him more desperate for answers. It’s all he can think about while he waits, skin crawling as worse and worse scenarios pop up in his head.

This wasn’t like him. Scott was the optimist. He was as understanding as he could be and always made sure of it. Who else would try to sit down with murderers and give them a second chance? His own pack didn’t always like his methods, but still Scott decided it was for the best. So why now was he only thinking of the worst?

Because it was Stiles, he supposed. Because it’s been almost seven years since anyone heard from his old friend. Because he looked so awful and didn’t remember things anyone else would about their childhoods.

He hates it. There was almost nothing to go off of and Scott hates it.

He smells the human before getting a good look at him again; that pungent smell of sanitizer and medication, though it probably only stood out to the wolf’s sharp senses. Watching him approach, Scott takes the opportunity to take more mental notes. How Stiles walked almost as if he was trying to keep his knees steady with every step, how his fingers were colorless and his nails were a little bit overgrown. Small details perhaps, but he didn’t want to miss anything this time.

“Hey Scotty.” He greets as he takes the opposite seat.

“Hey. Did you find the place alright?” Scott smiles. While Stiles responds - explaining it wasn’t that hard, but he didn’t know his way around anymore - he tunes into other senses as well. Oddly, he can’t smell anything else on the human. Not a tinge of emotion or even shampoo. Was that on purpose? Hiding his personal scent with all those chemicals?

“Your mom used to work at the hospital, right?” Stiles asks out of the blue, breaking a brief silence. Scott’s brown furrows slightly.

  
“Yeah, she still does, but I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“I didn’t.” Stiles explains, eyes on the table and one hand gesturing vaguely while he talks. “Not at first, obviously, but I have an idea now. I think it was your jaw? I’ve never seen somebody with a crooked jaw like that, except maybe in front of the tv… I don’t remember a lot from here. But anyway- we watched tv together is what I remember, and a nurse when my mom was sick talked to me sometimes and I dunno, I just had a feeling about her and you. If that makes sense.”

“No- I mean yes! That was us. And I think I get what you’re saying, but Stiles…” Nervously, Scott wets his lips. “We were in the sixth grade when you left, why can’t you remember any of that?”

Stiles doesn’t react much outwardly. His eyes dart around a little - Scott does notice now that they were fairly bloodshot as well - and his lips purse slightly as he prepares to answer. It was discomfort, clearly, but there was no intention of changing things around to make him feel better. Scott was supposed to believe his friend was dead for what was nearing a decade. He had to find out why.

“I’m not sure,” is all he says at first, one shoulder shrugging absentmindedly. “It could be my medicine, I’m on a lot. It could be repressed memories, or the shit that makes me need the medicine in the first place, or all three. We don’t really know.”

We.

His heart didn’t skip a beat, he wasn’t lying, but he said we. “Who’s we?”

“...Me and my dad.”

“Your dad…” was dead. He killed himself almost immediately after his wife passed. Some said that Stiles may have even witnessed that too, which would explain repressing his memories if nothing else did, but still—

“Can we talk about something else? My head hurts when I get too much into this stuff.”

That wasn’t right. Stiles wasn’t making any sense yet, but he couldn’t push him away now.


End file.
